Page 447 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“I knew you’d love it.” “I specifically asked for literally any other color.” “You don’t control me.” Elliot looked toward Ronan. Ronan raised both hands. “Do not bring me into this.” Claire kissed Elliot’s cheek before he could move. For half a second, he froze. Then smiled.

“You look beautiful.” Claire blinked. Ronan did too. Dylan stared. Claire narrowed her eyes.

“What do you want?” “Nothing.” “You are absolutely planning something.” “I’m getting married in forty minutes.” “So?” “So I have larger priorities.” Claire stared. Then smiled slowly. “Therapy really is working.” “Fuck off.” “There he is.” Ronan laughed. Elliot looked at him. And the entire garden disappeared. Not literally. Rebecca was still shouting instructions somewhere near the chairs. Thomas was helping a caterer carry boxes despite having been told five times that he was not employed by the venue. Bell stood beside the drinks table already checking his watch like Elliot’s wedding was another hearing running late. Vance had arrived twenty minutes early and was currently eating cake. Before the ceremony. Again. Some traditions survived. But when Elliot looked at Ronan, everything else softened around the edges. One year. Ronan still got that look. Good. He wanted it. Elliot crossed the distance between them.

“You ready?” Ronan stared. “No.” Elliot’s face fell slightly. Ronan smiled. “Thought you were supposed to panic first.” “Asshole.” “Yes.” Elliot’s mouth twitched. Then Ronan reached up and fixed the collar Elliot had already fixed twice.

“You look nervous.” “I’m not.”

“Liar.” “A little.” There. Ronan liked that answer. “Why?” Elliot glanced toward the chairs. Family. Friends. People who knew. That was the important part. Nobody had been invited because they believed Elliot was innocent. Nobody had been lied to. Rebecca knew. Thomas knew. Claire knew. Dylan definitely knew. Bell had known before most. Vance had built half the case. They had all arrived anyway. Elliot swallowed.

“Everyone’s looking.” Ronan’s chest tightened. Old Elliot would have loved that. Golden boy. Center of the room. Perfect smile. Perfect clothes. Perfect life. This Elliot looked like he wanted to hide behind Ronan. Ronan touched his wrist.

“Want to leave?” Elliot looked at him sharply. “No.” “Then?” He exhaled. “I’m okay.” “Actually?” “Yes.” Ronan smiled. “Good.” Elliot raised an eyebrow. “Allowed?” “Today? Definitely.” He smiled. Then looked toward the garden gate. Another car arrived. Rebecca immediately started waving. Elliot groaned.

“What?” “My therapist.” Ronan turned. “You invited Dr. Bennett?” “Mom did.” “That’s hilarious.” “No.” “You're getting married in front of your therapist.” “She has heard enough about you.” “Hopefully good things.” Elliot stared. Ronan laughed. “Mostly.”

“Ronan.” “I’m kidding.” “You’re not.” “No.” Elliot shook his head. Then Rebecca appeared. Already crying. Of course. She wore dark green. Elliot had chosen it. Not because it meant anything. Apparently. Ronan suspected otherwise. Rebecca stopped in front of them.

“Why are you both standing here?” Ronan looked around. “Waiting?” “You are not supposed to see each other yet.” Silence. Elliot looked at Ronan. Ronan looked at Elliot. Then both started laughing. Rebecca stared.

“What?” “We live together,” Ronan said. “I know.” “We woke up in the same bed.” “That isn't the point.” “I watched him get dressed,” Elliot added. Rebecca closed her eyes. “I did not need that.” “Nothing happened.” “Still did not need it.” Ronan grinned. She looked between them. “You two ruin everything.” “Genetics,” Elliot said. Rebecca slapped his arm lightly. Elliot smiled. Then she looked at her son. Really looked. Her expression changed. Ronan saw Elliot brace. Even after all this time. Rebecca touched his face.

“Look at you.” Elliot swallowed. “Mom.” “You’re getting married.” “Yes.” She started crying harder. “Oh my God.” “Please stop.” “I can’t.” “You’re ruining your makeup.” “I don’t care.” “You spent an hour on it.”

“Elliot.” Ronan stepped backward. This belonged to them. Rebecca noticed.

“No.” “What?” “You stay.” Ronan stopped. Family. Still. She looked at both of them. There had been months after the confession when Rebecca could barely speak to Elliot without crying. Then anger. Then therapy together. Then arguments. Then quieter grief. She had never pretended five murders were acceptable. She had never stopped loving him either. Saint would have hated her. Ronan liked that thought. Rebecca wiped beneath her eyes.

“I know today isn't about any of that.” Elliot’s face changed. “But I need to say something.” “Mom.” “Let me.” He went quiet. “I spent a long time thinking loving you meant I had failed to understand who you were.”

Elliot looked down. Ronan’s chest tightened. Rebecca continued.

“I thought maybe if I had known you better, I would have seen it.”

“No.” Elliot’s answer came immediately. Rebecca nodded. “I know that now.” She took his hand. “I also thought being angry meant I was loving you incorrectly.” Elliot looked at her. “It doesn’t.” “No.” A small smile. “Your therapist finally got that through my head.” Elliot laughed softly. Rebecca squeezed his fingers. “I can love you and still hate what you did.” “Yes.” “I can be proud of what you've done since and still wish none of it had happened.”

“Yes.”

“And I can stand here today and be happy for you without pretending the past disappeared.”

Elliot’s eyes filled. Ronan looked away briefly. Rebecca pulled Elliot into a hug. He went immediately. No hesitation anymore. Progress.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you too.” Ronan heard it anyway. Then Rebecca grabbed him too. “Oh.” He got pulled into the hug. “Mom.” “I’m having a moment.” “Apparently we’re all having it.” “Shut up.” Ronan smiled against her shoulder. Fucked-up family. Still family. Good enough.

The ceremony began at five. Ronan stood beneath an old willow tree at the edge of the garden. Elliot had chosen it. Apparently he liked the branches. Ronan suspected he just enjoyed the drama. Rows of simple chairs faced them. No enormous wedding. No strangers. No press. Nothing public. Their lives had been public enough. Claire sat in front wearing her fucking red dress. Dylan beside her. Rebecca and Thomas opposite. Bell. Vance. Dr. Bennett. A handful of friends Ronan had made during the five years Elliot was incarcerated. That mattered too. Ronan had built a life. Saint had once tried to convince him loving Elliot required reducing that life until nothing remained except Elliot. Ronan had nearly done it himself.

Then Bell had asked him the question he hated. What does loving someone like Elliot without destroying yourself look like? This. Apparently. A career. Friends. His own routines. A home Elliot joined rather than consumed. Arguments. Boundaries. Therapy. Family. Love occupying part of a life instead of swallowing the whole fucking thing. Music began. Nothing dramatic. Thank God. Elliot walked toward him with Rebecca. That had been his idea. She cried the entire way. Naturally. Ronan watched Elliot. The black suit. The ring from their engagement still on his finger. The expression he wore. Not golden boy. Not perfect. Not performing. Nervous. Happy. Maybe overwhelmed. Real. He reached Ronan. Rebecca kissed his cheek. Then Ronan’s.

“If either of you makes me regret supporting this…”

Ronan smiled. “You’ll kill us?” Elliot stared at him. Rebecca did too. Wrong phrase. Ronan winced.

“Terrible wording.” Elliot started laughing. Rebecca tried not to. Failed. “Just get married.” “Yes, ma’am.” She sat. The officiant began. Ronan heard approximately half of it. Elliot’s hand was in his. That was distracting. No officer. No visitation timer. No glass. Just warm fingers. Wedding bands waiting. When it came time for vows, the officiant looked toward Ronan. He had written something. Then rewritten it. Then thrown it away. Elliot knew. Of course.

“You forgot your vows?” Elliot whispered. “No.” “You did.” “I simplified.” “That sounds suspicious.” Ronan smiled. Then looked at him. “I choose you.” Elliot stopped. There. Three words. All they needed. Choice had been the battlefield of their entire fucking life together. Saint tried to choose for Elliot. Elliot tried to choose for Ronan. Ronan chose for Elliot. They had hurt each other doing it. Controlled. Lied. Protected. Manipulated. Then eventually learned. Love did not mean deciding what the other person became. It meant standing beside them while they decided. Ronan squeezed his hand.

“I choose you knowing everything I know.” Elliot swallowed. “I choose you knowing I’m probably still going to get angry.” A tiny smile. “I choose you knowing you’ll piss me off.” “Frequently.” People laughed. Ronan ignored them. “And I choose you because I want to.” Elliot’s eyes went wet. “That’s it.” Ronan smiled. “Your turn.” “You asshole.”